


Cupcakes, Snowmen, and Safe Spaces

by SaraJaye



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Baking, Christmas, Couch Cuddles, Cupcakes, Emancipated Minors, Established Relationship, M/M, Making fun of Hallmark Christmas movies, Mild Language, South Park's adults are Useless, mention of covid, mention of drugs, mentioned anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28242954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraJaye/pseuds/SaraJaye
Summary: Tweek bakes and thinks. Craig thinks Tweek needs a break.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9
Collections: fandomtrees





	Cupcakes, Snowmen, and Safe Spaces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatScottishShipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/gifts).



> Set in a slight AU where the characters aged more normally, or at least enough to be teens in 2020.

If he and Craig didn't already have their own apartment together, Tweek would throw all caution and anxiety about COVID aside and run to Craig's place. He was fine not being able to see his parents, they were useless anyway, and the other guys probably had their own plans. But Craig was an absolute necessity.

By some stroke of luck they'd both been able to declare emancipation at just fifteen. Maybe because the judge was as stupid as the rest of the adults, which was sad, but it was still enough to get him away from his lacing-coffee-with-meth parents and into a safe place with Craig. With a social worker and Craig's grandparents to check up on them.

And luckily, Craig still knew how to do Christmas even if 90% of South Park didn't seem to give a shit anymore.

The kitchen was his safe place. Even blocking all social media, paying extra for ad-free streaming, and letting Craig handle the necessary news-peeking didn't protect a person from reality, but somehow he felt further away from it in the kitchen. And it wasn't stress-baking, he told himself, because you were supposed to bake on Christmas. And teenage boys were supposed to eat a lot, so it wasn't like anything would go to waste.

(He still wished it was safe to send homemade food to people, though. He didn't hate his grandparents, and he at least knew the ones on his mom's side liked homemade baked goods.)

The apartment smelled like cupcakes. Cookies were more traditional, but one too many Mashed videos about The Many Ways You're Baking Cookies Wrong had scared Tweek away from even _trying_. Cupcakes were familiar. The exact measurements needed to keep them tender and fluffy, the right way to fold in mix-ins like chocolate chips, how to add cream or jam to the centers, when to frost.

Humming "White Christmas," he slid the third tray out of the oven. Chocolate this time, with a buttercream filling to be added later.

"Take a break, honey." He set the tray down without even blinking, by now he was used to Craig walking into the kitchen unannounced. Craig was the _only_ one who could walk up to him unannounced without being subject to a terrified scream.

"W-well, these need to cool off, so maybe for about ten minutes-"

"Longer than that." Craig tugged the strings of his apron, Tweek fussing a bit as he tried to stop him. "Babe, seriously, you've been in the kitchen all morning, I know baking's like your comfort zone, but there's all kinds of stupid Christmas shows on TV. The cupcakes won't go bad if you put the filling in later, I promise." Tweek whimpered a little, glancing between the tray and the den.

_I gotta finish these in time._ In time for what, though? He couldn't send them to Grandma and Grandpa. Even if it _were_ safe to send things, he didn't know if they'd get to Stan and Kyle all the way in Canada on time. The only people eating these cupcakes were him and Craig.

The couch looked so inviting with the afghan Craig's grandma had knitted them two years ago. The TV droned on about some dancing snowman special (there were like ten of those at this point), and the cupcakes were still too hot to add any filling or frosting.

With a sigh, Tweek took his apron off the rest of the way and hung it on the hook across the kitchen, tucking in the strings. Craig turned the oven off.

"That's better," he said. "Now come watch the dancing snowman with me."

"S-sure! Hey, you think this one'll be less stupid than the last two?"

"Hell if I know," Craig snorted. "So far only like, three of the Christmas specials this year haven't sucked ass. Rest of it's all sequels and Hallmark shit." Tweek rolled his eyes.

"Screw Hallmark," he said. "Well, except the Puppy Bowl. And anything else with animals that's not just some dog prancing around in the background while boring people kiss." He smiled. "Wanna watch one of those things and make fun of it later?" Craig kissed him.

"And this is why I love you, babe. You come up with the best ideas." Tweek blushed.

"Y-you're pouring it on kinda thick..." But really, he was lucky to be one of the few people Craig so willingly praised. The two of them flopped down onto the couch, snuggled under the afghan, and watched the snowman special start up.

The entire apartment smelled like cupcakes. Snow piled up outside the windows. The snowman sang a song about bells and ribbons. Craig's arm was warm around him, the afghan's soft fuzz tickled his cheek.

Even if COVID wasn't a thing right now, Tweek never wanted to leave this space.


End file.
